


who knows what's in the future

by johnllauren



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety, Campaign: Graduation (The Adventure Zone), Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers for Episode 16, fitzroy does not let himself be loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: “Is anyone else…notsuper stoked about going back to the school right now?” Fitzroy asks, “Or is that just me?”Argo nods. “Nope, I am definitely feeling that one, too.”“You’re probably feeling that way because we are fucked.” The Firbolg says, a very astute observation, given the circumstances.
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 11
Kudos: 152





	who knows what's in the future

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place right after episode 16 so there are spoilers !!  
> title from "unspoken words" by mxmtoon

“Is anyone else… _not_ super stoked about going back to the school right now?” Fitzroy asks, “Or is that just me?”

Argo nods. “Nope, I am definitely feeling that one, too.” 

“You’re probably feeling that way because we are fucked.” The Firbolg says, a very astute observation, given the circumstances. 

Fitzroy exhales, shakes his hands a few times. “Cool. Glad I’m not the only one.” 

Althea greets them as they walk away from Calhain’s tent, smiling at them kindly. The thought of telling her about what just happened flashes through Fitzroy’s mind, and he’s sure the others feel the same, but that just seems like it could go very wrong very quickly. It isn’t like they can’t handle this on their own, it’s just going to take a long time and potentially end in death. So really, just another semester. 

When she nears them and sees the shock on their faces, her demeanor changes. “Argo? What-” 

“Calhain is dead.” The Firbolg says. 

“Oh.” A pause. “Did - did you guys kill him?”

Fitzroy hesitates. “Uh… Hey, I’ll tell you what, Althea, let’s take a rain check on that one, actually.” 

She raises an eyebrow but lets it go, probably because of Fitzroy’s recent near-death experience and everything else going on. Fitzroy doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with the pity, but it’s better than her prying, so he says nothing. Althea lets them go, and they return to their tent, where most of their things are already packed away in preparation for the journey back to the school. 

“Would any of you object to another night here with our new friends?” Argo asks. 

“Yeah, let’s extend our stay for a bit.” Fitzroy says, at the same time as the Firbolg’s “That’s a good idea, Argo.”

“It’s settled, then. Another night and we can face… whatever waits for us.” 

Fitzroy scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Have either of you thought about maybe just living here and never going back there? Just a thought. I think our lifespans might be exponentially larger if we did that.” 

Even Fitzroy knows that wouldn’t be feasible, especially given that they’re the only people who can save Hieronymous, but none of them can deny the fact that it’s tempting to stay here with the centaurs and experience the end of this romcom firsthand. 

“I wish,” Argo says. 

It isn’t hard convincing the centaurs to let them stay another night, what with everything going on, the way most of them are afraid or in awe (or both) of Fitzroy, and the fear in the Thundermen’s eyes when they ask. Rhodes looks at them quizzically when they tell her, but all it takes is Fitzroy’s whisper that “not everyone at school is who they say they are”, a lot of persuasion on Argo’s part, and the Firbolg standing behind them and nodding to convince her that another night before heading back wouldn’t be the worst. 

By the time the sun is setting, all three of them are exhausted. They call it a night and return to the tent, sitting on the sleeping bags they had to unpack again. Exhaustion has crept its way into Fitzroy’s bones and settled there, making everything feel heavy and weighed down, and by the looks of it, the other two feel the same. It goes without saying that it’s going to be hard to fall asleep tonight. 

(When the Firbolg suggests moving their sleeping bags closer together, there is fear in his voice, a fear that Argo and Fitzroy are feeling, too. They agree immediately, and the row they move their sleeping bags into is probably the most uniform thing they’ve ever done without getting hurt. It’s nice, having his closest friends nearby. All of them are spared from the fear that one of them could be hurt or taken during the night without the other two knowing.) 

“Goodnight,” the Firbolg says, then, rolling over and closing his eyes. 

“He could sleep through the end of the world,” Argo says, turning away from the Firbolg to face Fitzroy. Argo’s position between the two of them means he moves slightly closer to Fitzroy, afraid of waking the Firbolg with his talking. 

Fitzroy laughs softly, shifting to face Argo in return. “He deserves it. It’s been a long day.” 

“That’s one way to put it.” But Argo doesn’t sound resentful or angry about the events of the day, just tired. 

Fitzroy nods. “And another long day waits for us.” 

They’ve turned the lamp off, meaning it’s dark in the tent, save for the area of it partially lit by moonlight. Fitzroy is only inches away from Argo, but he can still only barely make out the other’s expression. Argo’s eyes are open and soft, though, looking at Fitzroy like he’s the only thing that matters. 

“When was the last time we didn’t have a long day?” His voice is low, quiet, just for Fitzroy to hear, and that shouldn’t make Fitzroy as happy as it does. 

Fitzroy hums in agreement. “Gods, I don’t know.” 

The Firbolg snores behind them, eliciting a laugh from them both. 

“You should go to sleep, too,” Argo says. “You need your beauty sleep, Mr. Boycloak Magazine.” 

Fitzroy draws in a sharp breath. “Yeah, I don’t think I really need to worry about that one anymore, so I’m good.” 

He doesn’t have to see Argo’s face to know that Argo’s raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Fitzroy’s hand moves to cover the brand Althea has put on him self-consciously, even if he knows Argo can’t see it. “The thing about, uh, modeling agencies, Argo, is that they’re kind of ‘no-brand zones’? Like, no offense to the people who’ve been branded, but it’s not exactly Boycloak material, so. What I guess I’m saying is that it doesn’t matter anymore because that part of my life is kind of, like, over now?” He tries to stop his voice from shaking, he really does, but he doesn’t get very far. 

“Come on, Fitzroy, that’s not fair. I doubt Boycloak would want to give up on a pretty face like yours,” Argo says, and Fitzroy ignores the way Argo’s compliment makes him feel. 

“Whatever,” Fitzroy says dismissively. The last thing he needs is Argo trying to talk about feelings with him, and thinking about the brand isn’t exactly doing wonders for his self-esteem. “This is the least of our problems right now anyway.” 

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.” Argo says. 

“Look, Argo, I’ve been dealing with hating myself for years now, I don’t need you to tell me that I’m pretty or whatever, it's fine.” It’s harsh, perhaps too harsh, but it’s easier to keep Argo out than it is to let him in, let him say things that’ll make Fitzroy get attached to him. Maybe that way it won’t hurt so much when he leaves. 

“Fitzroy-” Argo’s tone is pitying, and Fitzroy is beginning to realize that he hates pity about as much as he’s growing to love people fearing him. 

“It doesn’t matter. We’re probably going to die tomorrow anyway, and I can’t exactly book a modeling gig if I’ve been killed.” He realizes he isn’t exaggerating about the dying part. And Fitzroy can’t be the only one afraid they’re going to die tomorrow, can he? 

Argo reaches forward and rests his hand on Fitzroy’s shoulder, which proves to be awkward given their sleeping bags. “We aren’t going to die tomorrow, Fitzroy. Because - because we’re the Thundermen LLC, and dying is not part of an effective business model.” 

It’s a weak attempt at humor, but Fitzroy laughs anyway. “Right. ‘S not a good sales pitch.” 

“Now you’re talkin’,” Argo says, and it makes him feel better. 

Fitzroy smiles. “Maybe if we try really hard, we won’t die tomorrow, then.” 

“That’s the spirit. Or you could just scare the shit out of them, that seemed to work for us today.” 

“Yeah, that did work pretty well, didn’t it?” Fitzroy realizes he’s proud of being able to accomplish their goals, but he’s also proud of the look of _fear_ in the centaurs’ eyes because of him, because of what he did. 

“Maybe we can just go around cutting off hands and we’ll get anything we want.” 

Fitzroy nods. “Simple, yet effective. I dig it.” 

There’s still the anxiety that has made its way into his chest and buried itself there, practically paralyzing him when he thinks of what tomorrow brings. But it gets better when Argo jokes with him, when he allows himself to laugh despite everything. Argo is able to be casual, able to talk like they’re sitting in their room and everything is fine, and it makes the world around them seem a little lighter. 

“Go to sleep,” the Firbolg says as he turns around, but his tone is teasing. “We have long day of cutting hands tomorrow.” 

That makes all three of them burst into laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: lafayettesass


End file.
